"And now for the works of man. You must have been struck by the contrast between the towns in our own country and in Europe."
"Yes, certainly, the difference is great."
"In what does it consist?"
"Principally in the newness of the one, and the oldness of the other. There, what one sees reminds him of the past; here, he beholds only presentiments of the future."
"There is a great difference, I am told, and read too, in the style of building."
"You may well say that. Here there is no style. Our houses are models of bad taste, and pretty much all alike. The time will undoubtedly come when we shall have a domestic architecture, but it will require some years before we get rid of narrow cornices, innumerable small windows, and exclusive white paint."
"You should make allowances for us," said Armstrong, deprecatingly. "Consider the poverty of a new country, and the material that poverty compels us to use."
"I am willing to allow the excuse all the weight it deserves, but I cannot understand how poverty can be an excuse for bad taste, or why because wood is used, a house may not be made to have an attractive appearance. I think there are other reasons more efficacious than the plea of poverty, which can, indeed, no longer be made."
"Come, come," said Armstrong, "you do not love anything about us Puritans, and your objections, if politeness would allow you to speak them out plainly, would be found to contain a fling at Calvin's children; but hearken, if I cannot find excuses to satisfy even you."
"I shall listen eagerly, but must correct you in one thing. I not only love some things about the Puritans, but some Puritans themselves."